Chosen by Fire

by Harriet Locksley

They watched as a patch of the sea broke and the head and shoulders of the Fuathan emerged from the water. His skin was grey, white and brown, smooth like a seal, but shiny like the scales of a fish, seaweed hair fell lank and dripping over his shoulders. There was wary defensiveness in the expression of his sharply angled features. However she read guilt and sorrow in his eyes.

  “You summoned him?” said Tam, awestruck as he stared at the other Fiadhain.

  “I did.”

  “You did what?” asked Tarshruth after a pause.

  “Remember, no Fiadhain can see or hear me,” said Tam.

  “Your punishment,” Kaetha murmured. She had forgotten.

  “You deserve answers more than I deserve punishment I think,” said Tarshruth. “Though I don’t expect that what I say will satisfy you.”

  “Ask him,” said Tam.

  “I must know whose magic caused all this. Who was behind it?”

  “Every Fuathan around here must know who was behind it. But that doesn’t mean that I can tell you.”

  This revelation was painfully frustrating. Remembering the Fuathan in the River Eachburn, she tried to think of what she had to trade. She felt the flat pockets of Mairi’s cloak. “I have a silver coin back at that cottage over there,” she said, pointing to it. “Would that loosen your tongue?”

  “You don’t understand,” he said, “I can’t tell you, just as I couldn’t do anything to help those wretches. Neither could my brothers and sisters. None of this is our choice.”

  “But if you try, if you just tell me who it is or tell me something about them at least, I might have a chance to take revenge. I could end their power over you. It’s a human, isn’t it? Your kind wouldn’t do this.”

  Tarshruth was wide-eyed with surprise at her insightfulness. He inclined his head, the barest of nods. “I wish you could end their rule over us but the only one with enough power to have a chance to do that would be the Daughter of the Stars and she’ll have nothing to do with humans.”

  “The Daughter of the Stars?”

  “That’s their name for the Calliack,” Tam informed her.

  “And what would she think about you being controlled by a human?” Kaetha continued. “Or, as she may see it, disobeying her in order to wilfully follow the commands of a human.”

  “But that’s not how it is, she—”

  “That’s how she’ll see it,” said Kaetha, hoping that more pressure would force him to talk.

  Tarshruth sighed, letting his head and shoulders droop. “I can’t—” He looked up suddenly and Kaetha thought he was staring at her, until she realised that his gaze was fixed behind her.

  She turned. Further up the beach stood Meraud, still as rock but for her grey cloak which rippled in the wind.

  “I wanted to talk to you without the others,” said Meraud. “I’d ask you who your new friend is but I know that Baukans don’t part easily with their names.” Tarshruth looked confused. “How you got one to serve you though, I have no idea. You’re chosen by Fire and you have Air magic, yet you command a creature of Earth.” Meraud made a small laugh. “I knew you were powerful but it seems that even I underestimated you. Don’t go too far, Fuathan,” she said, holding up a hand towards Tarshruth, though she kept her eyes on Kaetha. “We will require your assistance soon.”

  Kaetha noted the look of repulsion on Tarshruth’s face. He dived out of sight, though she sensed that he lingered close by.

  “You did this,” said Kaetha.

  “Kaetha, stay back,” said Tam but she ignored him, marching up to Meraud.

  “Why?”

  Meraud’s face was unreadable.

  “Why?” Kaetha shouted.

  “I did not do this, Kaetha Baird.”

  “It’s just Kaetha.”

  “Indeed. For you are a bastard. And one with a surprising loyalty to those who rejected you. You want to save your father. You want justice for your mother. But what if your destiny is bigger than that? You are powerful Kaetha. If you come with me, train with me, you will grow more powerful still.”

  “Are you really such an eejit? Do you think there’s the smallest chance that I would agree to that when I’ve just watched you kill hundreds of people?”

  “Their blood is not on my hands,” Meraud said calmly.

  “Liar. I won’t let you deceive me again. You were behind the attack on Neul Carraig. You gave Naru the idea which led the survivors to Longmachlag. You followed us here, waited until they were aboard and, from a safe distance, you used your magic to kill them and all the other innocent people on those ships.”

  Meraud shook her head.

  Tears stung Kaetha’s eyes. “Who else could it have been? If you were innocent, you would have tried to save them.”

  “I saved you.”

  “No you didn’t. Donnan did.”

  “And did he calm the sea for long enough to allow himself to reach you?”

  Kaetha gripped her knife’s hilt, her knuckles white, but she kept it sheathed. She wanted to know the truth. “Meraud.” Thoughts drew close to her mind. She could almost hear them. Then they were rolling back like the waves on the beach, elusive as almost remembered dreams.

  “I’ve had practice at guarding my thoughts from users of Air magic. Branna was too trusting, she never suspected. Besides, your Fire magic with its propensity to heighten your emotions does so stunt the power of your Air magic and its discernment of thought. Deorsa sensed that struggle in you.” She looked almost pitying. “You still do not draw your weapon. You do not want to kill me. Not while you still have so many questions.” She turned her head slowly to the bobbing waves. “You may not believe me but I wish this hadn’t happened. However, you’re here with me now and that’s what matters.”

  “What do you mean?” she said, tightening her hold on the knife.

  Tam was beside her now, gripping her arm.

  “I saw you, long before we met. I saw your future. What you will become. You can save your father, Kaetha.”

  Kaetha clamped her hands to her head. “Why are you saying this?”

  “The vision was hazy, the future not yet set. But I know that if you choose to save him, you will need me. I saw us together. I was there as you freed him. If you do not come with me, you shall fail.”

  “Don’t listen to her,” said Tam. “Water magic flows through her words.”

  Kaetha felt dizzy, her head heavy. Cries of the gulls were muffled and swathes of shingle drifted out of focus. Her muscles loosened as her anger trickled away and she gazed up at Meraud’s face. What if she’s right? Maybe I need her. Perhaps I belong with her.

  “Come with me,” repeated Meraud.

  “Kaetha,” said Tam, “you have the strength to fight it,” but his voice was faint and his words were not as important as Meraud’s.

  What am I thinking? She shook her head. No, she told herself, remembering the anger in Donnan’s face back at Neul Carraig, his disappointment. Meraud’s lies had already begun to sew themselves into her mind, once again. This is not me. I have to cast her magic out of my head. Feelings of loyalty to Meraud – the desire for greater magical power – to go now and save her father with her by her side – these feelings and wishes were bright and loud and enticing, whilst dull and numb and shrinking was her desire to stay with Donnan, Mairi and Tam. Soon she couldn’t tell what was real and what was not.

  Through the battle of emotions swelling within her, she held firmly to one thought – Cast her magic out. Naru had done it; so could she. As she willed her Fire magic to dredge through her heart and mind to rid her of the darkness of Meraud’s lies, light streaked across her closed lidded eyes and she grew hot. Beads of sweat gathered on her forehead. Then a cold, empty feeling slithered through her, like a snake seeking a rock to hide under, but her Fire found it and it dispersed like steam. Cast it all out.

  When she opened her eyes again, it was to glare at Meraud who staggered backwards, her smile buckling. Kaetha’s anger was as raw and consuming as a flaming
execution pyre. She had felt Meraud’s defences against her Air magic; they had been hard and numbing like walls of ice, but that ice was cracking now and Meraud’s thoughts drifted through it.

  “Stop,” Meraud whimpered, cradling her head in her hands.

  A thought came to Kaetha then. It felt like a memory. There was a wall of stone and, below it, the sea. It was odd, most of her thought-reading began with sound but this was just image. She could see the panic in Meraud’s eyes now – a chink in her armour. Fire and Air working together, Kaetha opened up this vision and now she saw an ashy smudge growing in the dark sky. Dawn. Thoughts grew out from the memory – whispers of the ships in Longmachlag Bay – of power – a great destructive power which would cause all aboard the ships to perish.

  Then she saw something glinting. A gold band around a wrist. How can it be? thought Kaetha when she saw the ornament held by that gold band. It was a stone that looked like elf-shot only paler in colour. How can Meraud have worn such a stone without it killing her? This stone was powerful in a way that Kaetha did not understand, yet she felt sure that it was connected to the deaths at Longmachlag Bay.

  Kaetha drew her knife and pointed it at Meraud who threw up her arms, though to shield herself or to attack, it was hard to tell. “I don’t wish to hurt you, Kaetha.”

  Tam was now snarling beside Kaetha in wolf form.

  “I don’t care what you do to me,” said Kaetha. “Just tell me, where is it? Where’s the stone?”

  Meraud whistled a high ringing note and water burst in a great splash. As Tarshruth rose from the sea, his face and body changed form, limbs and back stretching, face lengthening, though Kaetha still recognised those same, sorrowful eyes. His weed-like hair flicked up into a shaggy mane. In moments, he became a great dappled grey horse, dripping water as his hooves beat into the shingle. He reached Meraud who leapt onto his back.

  She looked down on Kaetha with the proud face of a victor of a battle, though she backed away like a deserter. “The future is a vast sea. I believe we will meet again. Find your aunt. Leave this land.” She kicked Tarshruth with her heels. “Only stay away from Ciadrath, that way lies death,” she warned before Tarshruth’s hooves thundered and her cloak billowed after her like a storm cloud.

  THIRTY ONE

  The Crown of Dead Kings

  It hurt to leave Aleas and Arran, both broken in their grief, but they had to go.

  “It was Meraud,” said Kaetha as they left Longmachlag, following the Murchads’ directions south-west towards the village of Kempston.

  “How do you know?” asked Donnan.

  Kaetha said nothing.

  “That woman . . . she wasn’t here, was she?” said Mairi. “You didn’t see her?” Mairi gripped her hand. “Answer me. Have you seen her?”

  She nodded. The image of the stone like pale elf-shot came to her mind again. There was so much she was ignorant of, so much worry twisting and fraying her thoughts that she felt queasy.

  “And she’s behind all this?” said Mairi. “She could have killed you. I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

  “Why didn’t she?” said Donnan. “When she so easily took the lives of all those others?”

  She couldn’t answer him.

  Her relief at surviving was marred by the stinging of guilt. Why did she live when they had died? It was made all the worse as it was by her encouragement that the Order decided to board the ships. It was upon her insistence that the prisoners of Creagairde chose exile instead of a trial. She wondered how many might have survived without her interference. She pictured her friends, the townsfolk, the silent ones, lining the path, facing her with wide, unseeing eyes.

  She lagged behind Donnan and Mairi, allowing distance to grow between them.

  “You thought you could help them,” said Tam. “This wasn’t your fault.”

  She felt a lump in her throat and couldn’t reply, not that she was sure what she’d say.

  “You read Meraud’s thoughts back there,” he said. “You asked her about a stone. What did you mean?”

  Kaetha described the stone and explained how Meraud’s thoughts indicated that it had been used for the murders at Longmachlag Bay. For Meraud, the stone had seemed to carry authority too, like a crown worn by a monarch.

  “What does she want?” said Kaetha. “To rule people? To control them? And what on earth is this thing that holds such power?”

  Confusion was written across Tam’s face. “Meraud? You saw Meraud with a stone like elf-shot?” Kaetha could tell he was thinking hard. “I think what you saw was an elemental stone.”

  “What’s that?” She turned to him but he looked away, out to the horizon.

  “I thought they only existed in myth.” He paused. “Fiadhain tell tales, stories of ancient times when the Calliack was even more wrathful than she is now. It is said that she punished great numbers of Fiadhain.”

  “Why?”

  “Different tales give different reasons. Perhaps it was for befriending humans, or encroaching on her sacred territories, or for disobeying her rules against intermarriage between different kinds of Fiadhain.”

  “Fiadhain marry?” she asked, gaping at him in amazement.

  “Fiadhain are as capable of love as of hatred.” He touched the elf-shot which he wore on a string around his neck. “Perhaps we’re not so very different from your kind,” he said thoughtfully.

  “Perhaps,” she agreed. “But what did the Calliack do to punish the Fiadhain in the stories?”

  “Stripped them of all their powers. Transferred their magic into four jewels which she wore about her neck. A jewel of Fire from the Faydrakes, Earth from the Baukans, Water from the Fuathans and Air from the Annisiths. She thought that if they had no power, they were no longer a threat to her rule. Then came a battle. Fiadhain joined forces against her, stealing back the jewels of power. But their victory was empty. Nothing they could do could release the powers from the jewels. They were lost to them. However, to spite the Calliack, they hid them from her, Baukans changing the jewels to look like the elf-shot they were making for humans to hunt with.”

  “Did she find out?”

  Tam shrugged. “The story doesn’t say.” He squinted at her. “Perhaps it isn’t even true. But, however they came to be, if these stones of power are real and you saw one in Meraud’s possession, that should mean—”

  “That there are three more,” she said.

  “So there may be a way to oppose her, before she gets too powerful.”

  “Except that we’ve no idea where to find the others, if they exist at all.”

  Tam gripped her shoulder, making her jump. “Did you hear that?” he whispered.

  “Here what?” said Kaetha. But Tam didn’t answer, instead, he took on the form of a dog and raced down the road, shaggy brown fur shaking out in all directions.

  “What was that about?” said Donnan.

  “No idea,” replied Kaetha, catching up with them.

  Eventually Tam returned. “There are guards ahead or officers. Armed men anyway, riding north on the road towards us. I think we’ll be safer cutting across moorland.”

  “But it would take longer,” said Donnan. “And how do we know these men are a threat?”

  Tam turned to Donnan. “I don’t know they’re a threat. I simply think we should be cautious.”

  “For once, I agree with Tam,” said Mairi.

  Evening fell along with drenching rain.

  “There’s an outcrop of rocks a little way off,” said Tam, returning from another scout ahead. “I think that’s our best chance of a shelter tonight.”

  “But it’s still hours before dark,” said Donnan.

  “Aye,” said Tam, “but we may not come across another shelter as good if we kept walking all through the night and the rain looks unwilling to stop. Better shelter from it and set off tomorrow rested than struggle on needlessly in the wet and the dark.”

  Kaetha noted Mairi’s stilted, stooping walk. “We’ll follow you,
Tam,” she said.

  When they got to the tumble of tall rocks, Kaetha walked around them to look for the most likely spot for their shelter. Turning a corner, a cold gush of water spilled into her boot and she cursed the stream she’d stepped into. “At least we won’t go thirsty, I suppose,” she said.

  Donnan and Kaetha stretched out blankets, tying them between boulders to form a roof of sorts. Mairi put a hand on her stomach as if to hide the sounds of her hunger.

  “We’re so close to Feodail now,” said Kaetha. “We can eat most of the food the Murchads gave us, as long as we leave a little to break our fast with in the morning.” She handed them all some bread and dried fish and set to work making a ring of stones for a fire.

  “In this rain?” said Donnan. “Won’t it just go out?”

  “Not if I don’t want it to,” said Kaetha with half a smile.

  Tam had wandered off, despite the drizzle and Mairi took herself into the shelter to sleep whilst Kaetha and Donnan warmed themselves a little longer by the fire. Kaetha kept the flames alive with a thin, steady flow of energy from the motion of the wind. She could do this almost without thinking now. She sat silently staring into the flickering glow, lost in thought.

  Donnan had been sitting beside her and now drew closer. “We still might find him, Kit. We might be able to do something. Don’t lose heart.”

  “You actually caught me thinking of something else. Though, of course, I’m worried about Pa.”

  “Is it anything you want to talk about?”

  For a while there was only the sound of the wind and of the fire crackling. “It’s nothing.” She glanced at Donnan and saw the concern in his eyes. “I told you how I asked Kahina to see Pa.” She felt her throat tightening despite herself.

  Donnan nodded.

  “She saw others for me too. Nannie and the Morays— Don’t worry, they’re alright.” She twisted her cloak in her fingers. “Rorie and Finola are together. A couple.”

  Donnan became still. “Ah.”

  “Which is good, of course. It’s good for them. I should have realised . . .”

  Donnan hesitated, then put his arm around her shoulders. “I don’t know what to say.”